Ever Fallen In Love
by FatesMistake
Summary: Inspired by the song by the same name, this is a story about Harry falling in love with the wrong man at the wrong time. Can he keep his feelings hidden when Snape and Remus decide to test the students on Love Potions and Spells? Can he forgive Severus when the man betrays their friendship? Rated T
1. Chapter 1

This was originally inspired by the song of the same name, and by the quote by Neil Gaiman, given below as part of the story. It is (obviously) not part of the series of vignettes in my Warming Trend series, but it does have one of those adorable heart-warming, cavity-inducing, sweet little endings that kind of make me wonder what the hell I was thinking when I wrote it. Enjoy.

SSHP

_"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love". Neil Gaiman_

_What is Neil Gaiman saying here? Well, there is the obvious, of course: That love can kill you with just a few words. But I think he's saying that love is what it is cracked up to be at the same time. You look at this statement and see a cynic, a man whose heart was broken and wants nothing more to do with love. But I see a man who has seen the ins and outs of love and seen its every secret. Because he's right, isn't he? You can fall in love at the slightest provocation, if enough interest is had. And the one you love can just as easily tear you down. It's the same reason we say there is a thin line between love and hate. You're interested, believe it or not. Sure, you hate them, but something keeps you looking at that person and wondering how next to get under their skin and inside their head. If one thing changes, just one…He or she says something kind, or supportive. You exchange a moment of understanding across a room, or in a dark corner. You smile at how ridiculous you're both being…All it takes is one limited interaction, and your heart has been touched. Then it isn't yours anymore. And no matter how hard you try, you'll never get all of it back. Even when he or she returns to normal interaction with you, you can't recall the animosity, and you can't take back your heart. Because now it's theirs, and when that sharp tongue, biting wit, or quick fist leaves its mark, you'll ignore it at first. You knew it'd happen, after all, didn't you? One moment of understanding doesn't erase years of enmity. But give it a day, perhaps a little less, and you'll find yourself crying for no perceivable reason. Maybe not in public, maybe not even visible to any who dare to look. But you're crying, on the inside. And you will for weeks, months, sometimes years. Life goes on, and you can't explain why you don't want to go on with it, so you keep moving with the timeline. This is what society calls "autopilot living". And you'll do that until something changes. Until reality sets in. Maybe you decide to speak out against your own complacency, maybe someone gives you a new reason to live…and maybe, the person you've worked so hard to ignore realizes just why they worked so hard to keep you in their life. There's no telling what will pull you out of the hole, yourself or someone else, but always something will break the mold and you will never be the same again._

SSHP

Harry set the book down and rubbed his eyes. "What a load of bollocks," He muttered, slamming the book shut.

"What is, Harry?" Hermione asked, sitting at the table beside him. They were in the library, studying for their Potions final. Professor Snape had assigned the hardest potion ever to see a syllabus since time immemorial, and Harry could find nothing of use to finish off his anthology of "what is love".

"This book…it's the philosophy of love, and I thought it might be useful for our final essay, but it's just useless," Harry moaned, shoving the book aside.

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Well you can't expect it to have the answers, Harry, its philosophy. You're only supposed to be looking for a basis, we have to come up with the words ourselves."

"Words for what?" Ron asked, joining them with Lavender attached to his hip.

"Our final potions assignment," Harry answered tiredly. "Snape decided we weren't well-rounded enough as adults, so we have to explain why even the weakest love potions can affect anyone. And Remus has decided to work in conjunction with Snape, so we basically have to write a bogus essay of at least four feet as to what we believe love is, why love potions and spells work so well, and if they are actually inducing love or a hormone imbalance or some such. Then they're going to test the soul-seeker spell on us in whichever class we have first."

"Why that spell? It isn't a love spell, it's just to tell you what type of personality best suits you according to the type of character you have at the time. Young witches giggle over that spell at sleepovers," Lavender said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's part of the lesson. One thing we're required to mention in the paper is why compatibility doesn't always make for the best life-partner or lover. It's the philosophy of 'opposites attract'. Our characters attract someone who compliments our personalities, but, as illogical humans, we're more likely to be immediately happy with someone who not only compliments us, but challenges us, which is what true compatibility means. The spell is designed to take all of that into account, so there's no telling what it might say our best-suited match is: someone very similar, or someone who's nearly our polar opposite, whichever attracts us most. Most of the girls in class are going nuts, convinced that their boyfriends or girlfriends will be perfect for them. Even some of the Slytherins began shooting Harry looks when Snape told us our ideal match might be our opposite, apparently convinced the differences between them will turn out to make _him_ a perfect choice," The intelligent witch said, digging some parchment out of her bag.

"Well, it is possible, isn't it? I mean, Harry is a hardcore Gryffindor, so any Slytherin would be able to oppose his personality, right?" Ron teased.

Harry groaned and stood up, grabbing his bag. "This is ridiculous. If anything, I'll be better suited to a Hufflepuff," He said. He looked at Hermione. "I'm going to go write this somewhere that no one will find me, or interrupt. I'll catch you guys at dinner." He walked away, ignoring his friends as they tried to stop him and make him tell them 'what was wrong' as if studying alone were a crime.

SSHP

Harry paused in the scratching of his quill to stretch his back, then leaned back over the already two-foot essay to continue. He moaned when hands began kneading at his shoulders. "God, Pansy, don't stop," He said, laying his head on his forearm.

"Still haven't told the Golden Gryffindorks where you disappear to?" Draco asked, sitting next to Harry.

"How'd you guess?" Harry countered, opening an eye to look at him.

"I just passed Granger as she was coming out of Snape's office, and all I got was a huff. I figure once you've told them I'll have her ten foot down my throat," Draco shrugged. "I thought you were going to tell them before graduation, which is only a little more than a month away."

Harry sighed. "How do you think I should go about doing that Draco? 'Oh, classes are fine, yes my homework is finished, I've been getting my work done in the Slytherin Common Room, which, by the way, I don't need a password for because Hogwarts herself has decided I'm an honorary Slytherin'; that'd go over well. I can see Ron blowing up already, claiming I'd been brainwashed, and that I'm under a spell. Not to mention the betrayal on 'Mione's face," He muttered. "I don't want them to know, anyway. Then they'd know where to find me when I try to disappear, and as much as I love them -we've been friends forever- I'm tired of having them cling to me like cats, claws and all."

"So you really have grown out of the friendship, then?" Blaise asked taking over Harry's shoulders as Pansy sat down with Millicent at Draco's side.

"I guess I have, yeah. They don't need to know everything about me, and I'm tired of feeling like I owe them something," Harry admitted. "Is that bad, Neville?"

The young Herbologist looked up from where he was working on an essay and sucking on a sugar quill on a couch a few feet away. "Not if it's what you want, Harry. I still think you should tell Professor Snape, though. He even knows _I'm_ in here regularly."

"Yeah, but he likes you, now that he knows your ineptitude in Potions is because of your aptitude in Herbology," Blaise chided his boyfriend. The boy shrugged and turned back to his parchment.

"Yeah, why doesn't he like you still, Harry? I mean, you out-mark Draco and Granger in class now that you have time to concentrate and we're not working to sabotage you, so what's he got against you still?" Theodore asked, joining them at the table.

"Dunno, maybe it has something to do with the fact that my father was his personal bully for seven years?" Harry said sarcastically. "Anyway, he doesn't outright _dis_like me anymore; he just isn't very keen on me."

"Bitter old bastard, he is," Draco muttered, earning him a soft cheer from around the table.

Harry chuckled. "Don't worry about it. Maybe I'll win him over next year when I take over Remus' job. For now, I would like to finish this essay."

"Working on Snape's final Potion's assignment?" Blaise inquired, leaning over Harry's shoulder.

The Gryffindor sighed. "Yes, though I'm not sure how to give my opinion on this 'opposites attract' idea."

Theo snorted. "Just imagine what your reaction would be to finding a description of Ginny Weasley as your 'ideal match', that should give you an idea of what to say," He pointed out jokingly. "It's what all of us were thinking when Snape mentioned it."

Harry glared at the Slytherin. "That's not funny, Theo, the idea is revolting. May I please just do my work in peace, without one of you inducing sickness?"

The group threw up their hands in mock surrender, making the Man Who Prevailed chuckle. He shook his head at his friends antics and returned to his half-finished essay.

After a few minutes, Draco broke the muted silence. "So are you going to the dance this Saturday?"

Harry rolled his eyes, dropping his quill to glare at the other boy. "I thought you were going with Theo, since neither of you have dates?"

"I am, I just want to know if you've thought at all about our idea to have you come with all of us. If it helps at all, Neville has agreed to go as a Slytherin," Draco coaxed.

The Wizarding savior rubbed his eyes in frustration. "Sure, why the hell not? It's not like anyone in Gryffindor has asked me to go, as a group or otherwise." For the second time in as many hours, he stood up, gathering his materials. "Now, I'm going to commandeer your dorm room, since I'll obviously get no peace here. Come get me when it's dinner."

Draco nodded, and as Harry began to walk down the corridor that led to the Seventh Year boy's dorm, the whole of the table echoed a goodbye. Harry waved over his shoulder at them, knowing they'd let him alone to study. He was glad for the Slytherins. If he'd tried a stunt like that in Gryffindor, he'd have been followed by at least twelve students thinking something was deathly the matter.


	2. Chapter 2

"Damn, Harry, you clean up really well," Blaise whistled as Harry led Draco out of the dorm room.

"Yeah, maybe I should have gone with you instead of Draco, eh?" Theodore said, putting his arm around the blonde's waist and kissing his temple. Draco shoved him playfully.

Harry looked down at the outfit Draco had forced him to wear. It was a Muggle tuxedo, and Draco had at some point stolen his measurements and had it tailored to fit. It highlighted his muscular tone, and made him look like a proper gentleman. Pansy had apparently helped steal the measurements, because the green silk shirt he wore underneath the suit coat and silver tie fit comfortably snug. "I feel like a peacock," He said at length.

"Well you look like a very impressive peacock," Came a familiar voice. Harry looked up as the crowd of Slytherins in the common room parted to show Hermione standing in the arms of Carter Warrington, who'd graduated the year before. "I think we both understand why neither of us told the other, Harry. But I'm glad you and Neville will be at my side when Ron finds out tonight."

Harry grinned, and reached up to rub the back of his head abashedly, but Pansy grabbed his wrist, reminding him she'd spent an hour and seventeen spells to get his hair to cooperate. "I guess we should go on up. It's one thing to be fashionably late, another entirely to miss half the party," Harry said, grinning apologetically at Pansy.

The small group of friends filed out of the common room and down the corridors towards the Great Hall, chatting excitedly. Harry found himself laughing when he realized Pansy and Millicent were being escorted by Crabbe and Goyle, since their boyfriends were graduated Ravenclaws who'd had to work, and began teasing the foursome mercilessly, with Neville and Draco joking along. By the time the large group reached the doors to the Great Hall, they were all laughing at something or other, and it took them a few moments to realize the Hall was silent.

The group gave a collective glance around, all of them smirking or outright smiling at the shock on the faces of their peers and teachers. Without missing a beat, the 7th Year Slytherins, and those that stood with them, made their way to an round table larger than any of the others that dotted the room. All of the girls, or more feminine of the males, sat down while the rest went to the refreshment table Dumbledore had set up against the wall. Dumbledore clapped his hands and the music, and dancing resumed, several people still staring in shock.

Theodore leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear. "Dumbledore definitely saw us coming with that large table. Did you see the look on Snape's face?"

Harry snickered and Blaise leaned over as well. "Did you see the look on the Weasley chit's face? She looks livid."

Harry snickered a little harder. "Of course, all she ever wanted is the Gryffindor Golden Boy, must be heart-breaking to find out he's really a Slytherin."

The whole group snickered as they moved back over to the table and passed out refreshments. Harry handed a drink to Millicent and Pansy, since Crabbe and Goyle had sat down with them, then turned when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He caught a glimpse of red hair, before he saw a flash of light as his nose was crushed from the unexpected blow. When his vision had cleared, Snape was kneeling at his side, the Hall was quiet, and all of his friends that had previously been sitting were now surrounding him defensively.

"Can you never go to a party without getting punched, Mister Potter?" Snape accused.

Harry grinned behind the hand he had over his nose. "Well, at least it wasn't Skeeter this time. It's not even bleeding, let alone broken. How embarrassing for Ron," He teased. He took the pain potion his professor offered him, then let the man help him back to his feet. The young Gryffindor put a hand on two of his defender's shoulders. "Guys, I'm fine. That was actually a rather pathetic blow."

The group turned to look at him, blocking any other would-be attackers still, and Harry rolled his eyes when Hermione cast an anti-swelling charm. "Are you really alright, Harry, dearest?" Pansy simpered, wrapping her arm around his.

Harry grinned at her. "Of course, dearest. With Professor Snape's potion, I'll feel right as rain in a matter of minutes," He winked at her, turning to smile at his Professor's retreating form. "Didn't I promise you a dance?" He asked, turning back to her.

The raven haired girl stepped back and curtsied. "Oh, you do flatter me; after you, Mister Potter."

Harry bowed and offered her his hand, which she took, before leading her out onto the dance floor as a waltz began to echo in the Hall. He pulled her into the steps gracefully. "Thanks again, for teaching me to dance, Pansy. I'd hate to step on your feet."

Pansy giggled. "You already had all of the grace, Harry, you just needed the confidence." She glanced back over her shoulder where their friends had separated into dancing pairs or retaken their seats at the table. Ron stood there with his sister, staring aghast at the lack of retaliation or comment from Harry. "I think you may have shocked Weasley into a statue by not saying anything to him."

Harry shrugged and twirled her around, before dipping her. "All the better for my night," He told her with a wink. She giggled again as he swept her away into the dance.

SSHP

Harry laughed as he switched to yet another partner, this time with Luna. "I think my feet may fall off if I dance anymore, Luna," He whispered confidentially.

The younger girl giggled. "Don't worry Harry; I think Hermione is coming to your rescue." With those words, she swirled away from him directly into the waiting arms of Justin Finch-Fletchley, surprising Harry with the finesse of it all.

"That girl is full of surprises," He muttered, moving over to the table his friends had taken over. Just as he made to sit, his arm was wrapped through with another and he found himself being led to the gardens. He looked at his kidnapper and saw Hermione smiling at him.

"You looked like you could use a break, and if you stay in there you'll hardly escape the girls vying to dance with you," She told him, answering his unasked question. She handed him one of the goblets of punch from the refreshments table and sipped her own.

"Did I tell you yet tonight that you look ravishing in that dress? Blue really is your color, 'Mione. I'm sorry I've been pulling away from you this year."

The girl shrugged. "I understood, once Carter explained it to me. I was still hanging out with Ron, and the other over-bearing Gryffindors, so you were afraid I was still trying to own your life like they do. I'm just sorry I didn't tell you sooner that I'm engaged to Carter. But the Slytherins are such a romantic bunch, and Carter is such a gentleman. I wish we'd both chosen to get close to them sooner."

Harry nodded. "Imagine how much happier we'd have been, and how little strife we'd have had to deal with if we had. I might have destroyed old Snakeface sooner if I'd had them at my side. They put the Hufflepuffs to shame with their loyalty, they really do," He agreed.

Hermione nodded as well and they were silent for a moment before she spoke again. "What did Professor Snape mean earlier, about you getting punched in the nose?"

Harry looked at her with a thoughtful hum, then chuckled. "Oh, um…You remember that ridiculous, pompous party I had to attend at the Ministry last summer?" The girl nodded. "Well, Professor Snape was there and Rita Skeeter was pestering him for a story. Albus apparently ordered him to 'be nice', so he couldn't just tell her to shove off. I moved over to them, and coughed just loud enough for her to hear me. When she tried to pin me down instead, I may or may not have told her that she was nothing more than a news-hound and an ink whore, with no life outside of the one she lived vicariously through her pursuits. She walloped me rather hard for that, broke my nose. Professor Snape took me to an alcove and cleaned me up. We never really spoke about it, and I sort of figured it was repayment for rescuing him from her. As for what he did back there…well, I guess he was trying to save face with his Slytherins. After all, he can't completely disregard me if they all love me, right?"

Hermione agreed with a giggle, and they continued on through the hedge maze as their conversation turned to more frivolous things.

SSHP

They'd been walking comfortably arm-in-arm for several minutes, when they turned a corner and Harry suddenly pulled Hermione back behind him.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded of the group that stood in their path. He stiffened when Hermione grabbed the hand he'd used to push her behind him, remembering their message system from when they'd taken down Voldemort. He signed into her hand for her to get the nearest Professor, and she took off as Ron and his cronies advanced.

"If it isn't the traitor," The red-head snarled. "Did you think you would get away with betraying us?"

Harry furrowed his brow in frustration. "I really don't think my having friends is a betrayal, Ron. You didn't have any trouble with me and Draco making a truce, or Neville dating Blaise, so why is it a problem now?"

"Because you're supposed to be my friend, Harry! You're supposed to be engaged to Ginny and making plans to join the Auror corps with me, not gallivanting with that group Death Eater wanna-be's!" Ron shouted.

"Yeah!" cried Dean and Seamus in the background.

"Harry, you're supposed to support Ronniekins, be his friend and give him what he needs," Lavender simpered. "That way he can afford my dream wedding someday!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why does he need me to support him? He's been stealing money from me for months."

There was a loud gasp of angry surprise behind them. "Ronald Weasley, you've been doing what?!"

Harry turned as Hermione joined him at his side. "Turns out Hogwarts had some unexpected visitors, Harry. I found more than just a Professor."

Harry squeezed her hand as Mrs. Weasley led the way into the clearing, Snape and the Weasley twins following behind closely. "Hi Mrs. Weasley, Gred and Forge," He said calmly. "What brings you to Hogwarts?"

Mrs. Weasley smiled sweetly at him, apparently forgetting her anger with her youngest son for the moment. "Albus fire-called me to tell us he'd accepted your application to be next year's DADA professor. And you've befriended the Slytherins! I'm so proud of you Harry, I had to come and tell you that in person!"

Harry scratched his neck in embarrassment. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. Turns out I'm not half bad at teaching, and Albus said the DA in Fifth Year was enough of an apprenticeship."

Fred and George came over and smacked him on the back simultaneously. "Congratulations, Harry!" They said in unison.

"What the hell are you congratulating him for?!" Ron demanded. "He betrayed me and Ginny, your siblings, and you're acting like he's a bloody god! I'm your brother!"

Mrs. Weasley rounded on him, her anger returning in a flash of muddy brown eyes. "I heard what Harry said, Ronald Billius Weasley. Have you really been stealing from him?!" She demanded.

Ron crossed his arms and looked away. "It's not like he'd notice. A few thousand galleons is nothing compared to what he'll receive upon graduation."

"That was money left to him by his parents, Ron! How could you?! Do I not provide enough for your greedy little hands?" Molly demanded. No one but Harry noticed as Snape disappeared back into the hedge maze.

"Ginny and I need more than you've ever been able to offer!" Ron shouted. "Do these look like the second hand dress robes you sent me? Ginny is wearing a real emerald around her neck, and she looks gorgeous. You could never afford something so glamorous! Ginny has had a private etiquette tutor, training her to become Lady Potter-Black when Harry comes to his senses, who do you think paid for that? Who do you think paid for me to bribe the Examiners for my?!"

Harry and Hermione gasped when Mrs. Weasley backhanded the boy. "Harry paid for those things, as wrong as they were to procure, with money you stole from him! How could you do it, Ron?"

"Easy enough," The boy hissed. "He sleeps in my dorm, it wasn't hard to steal his wand to seal notes I sent off to Gringotts. If you're asking why, then perhaps you should look at the pitiful paycheck father brings home. I took necessary steps to ensure mine and Ginny's future, while you sat back and lived the life of a practically homeless housewife."

Mrs. Weasley sobbed and stepped away. "Did Ginny know what you were doing?" She asked. Harry heard a touch of hope in her voice, and bowed his head knowing he'd have to stomp all over that little light, even though Ron answered in the negative.

"She has been doing her own reconnaissant theft since last November. But most of her crimes have been her late night visits to my dorm room, and the times she's tried to trap me in alcoves and abandoned classrooms," Harry said softly. "I've so far had back-up with me each time, but there was one point where she had me alone before Draco caught up with me in the dungeons, and she told me she would eventually get me alone to perform an old binding ritual, ending with her pregnant and the two of us married in the eyes of the Ministry."

Molly looked at him and pulled him into a strong hug. "I'm so sorry, Harry, dear. I don't know how I managed to raise such monstrous children," She said, soaking Harry's shoulder with her tears.

Harry hugged her close to him as Professor Snape led Kingsley Shacklebolt into their small clearing, with a few other Aurors. The three Gryffindors standing in defense of Ron were arrested as well, and Harry looked at Snape in question.

"Ginny Weasley admitted that these three little brats were in on her own plans to trap you, that it was to be carried out the night of graduation, with their help," Snape told him. "It might have helped that her Pumpkin Juice was spiked with an undetectable substance," He suggested, slipping his hand into the pocket Harry knew constantly held a phial of Veritaserum. Harry smiled and mouthed a thank you as he led the other Weasley's to the Headmaster's office.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry groaned as he walked into Slytherin Common Room a few hours later to see all of the elder Weasley brothers apologizing to the Slytherins for their poor treatment during their own school years. The Slytherins were meanwhile laughing off the apologies. "Guys, seriously?"

The entire population of the room turned to look at him. "Hi, Harry…We were just apologizing for all of the stupid pranks we pulled on the Slytherins when we were jailed up here at the school," George said cheerfully.

"And we're trying to convince them that none of us were really bothered, because House rivalry kind of dictated us all," Said a Slytherin Fourth Year.

Harry shook his head at the elder Weasley's. "Guys, they're right. You don't have to apologize for acting like Gryffindors. For one, you were raised believing Slytherins are pure evil, and for two, you didn't just prank Slytherin. I can recall at least a dozen times where I myself bore the brunt of one your experiments or gags. So where's my apology?" He joked.

Suddenly, all of the older Weasley boys were on top of him, smothering him with playful hugs. Even Percy was wrapped around him, laughing with his brothers. Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing when the majority of the common room joined the hug, ending with all of them collapsed in a heap on the floor. Harry's head stuck out of the pile just a few feet from the entrance. He looked up as the laughter died down, everyone trying to figure a way off the floor without damaging one another, to see a long black robe over deliciously sculpted legs in black slacks.

"Hey Professor," He said awkwardly. He plastered a shy smile on his face as he struggled to push himself out from underneath the humongous pile, particularly the combined weight of Bill and Charlie.

"Honestly, Mister Potter, you're free of Gryffindor two hours and you brainwash even my youngest snakes into having an orgy?" Snape asked. His voice was entirely serious, as was the look on his face, but Harry caught the twinkle of amusement in his eye. "How many of them do you think you've managed to injure in this venture?"

"Well, you know me, sir, always one for the most attention I can get," Harry said. He looked down at the groaning pile that seemed to extend over the entire common room and wondered if anyone was hurt in the massive fall. "Everyone alright?" He called. A collective "here-here" resounded in the room.

"1 of 6, Harry!" Came a voice at the back that he thought might be Crabbe.

"1 of 4, Harry!" Called Blaise, much closer to him. The rest of the room remained silent except for the occasional groan.

Harry looked up at his teacher. "I can guarantee you will find no injured Slytherin in this common room. However, you might find a fourth and sixth year in the Hospital Wing if you hurry," He said slyly. "I will point out, however, that I was the victim of assault, and not the cause of this mess. Care to help a guy out? Otherwise I think it could be a few hours before I get up, and the dungeon floor is terribly cold."

The Potions Master raised an eyebrow and reached down, gripping Harry's forearm. "Wouldn't want the Gryffindor Golden Boy catching a cold, now would we?" He asked ironically, sliding Harry out from under the pile.

Harry sighed happily as he lay on the floor, able to breathe freely once more. "Feels like old times, eh, Professor?" He asked with a smile.

The professor stood surveying the wreckage of students picking themselves up off the floor, but glanced at Harry sideways as the younger wizard stood. "Are you comparing my snakes to a pile of dead Death Eaters, Mister Potter?"

Harry chuckled as he moved to help Pansy out of the pile without her dress lifting too far up her thighs. Draco was doing the same for Hermione at the other side of the room. "Nah, your snakes weigh more," He teased. He ducked when everyone already standing sent a transfigured pillow in his direction. Finally, everyone who'd fallen was off the floor after a few minutes.

"Well, we better go get Mum, Harry, before she convinces the Aurors to leave her alone with Ron and Ginny," Percy said. All of the Weasley boys hugged Harry and Hermione, patting Neville on the back, and said their goodbyes to the Professor who still stood in the entrance. Once the wall had closed behind them, the room looked expectantly at the Potions Master.

"Return to your dorms," He said simply. The snakes all began filing away into their separate corridors immediately with goodnights shouted to the Gryffindor trio, and Harry moved with his fellow Gryffindors towards the entrance. "Not you three," Snape said, stopping them.

Once the common room was empty, Harry looked at the Potions Master. "Is something the matter, Professor?"

"Our esteemed Headmaster has decided that, since you three have been spending the majority of your time with my house, your loyalty has been tested by the school and you have been found wanting. As such, you have been given the title of "Without House" and will be given quarters separate from your peers. It has been put upon me to find out where you wish to stay. As adults, you can choose to reside with a professor, as is what we usually do with students that have no House loyalty, or you can opt into any empty quarters throughout the castle," Snape explained.

Harry couldn't help but be stunned by this news, whereas Hermione seemed very keen, obviously mapping the castle out in her mind. However, it was Neville who spoke. "Has Professor Dumbledore spoken with any of the other professor's, sir?"

Snape sighed. "Yes, and we have all agreed that, in the case Mister Weasley had accomplices we are yet aware of, you are welcome in any of our quarters."

"Even you, sir?" Harry teased.

Snape sneered at him. "I was coerced, make no mistake, but yes, I have agreed to house one of you, should you feel I am a safe choice. There is only a month left of classes granted, but if you choose to stay with a professor you will not be allowed to ask your host for help in any curriculum subject."

"Could I stay in the empty suites in the East Tower, sir?" Hermione asked excitedly. Snape nodded, then looked to Neville.

"I would like to stay in the Greenhouse Quarters, sir. If they are unavailable, I would like to stay with Hagrid," Neville said confidently.

"I believe the Greenhouse Quarters were recently cleaned for your use in the upcoming year, so they are yours to use, Mister Longbottom. And where would you like to go, Mister Potter? I imagine you'll want to stay with the wolf?"

Harry blushed. "No, sir…He and Sirius are just recently married, and Sirius apparently visits often. I wouldn't wish the lack of silencing charms on anyone. Since it is a possibility that Ron had dangerous accomplices, and they likely won't get the warrant to use Veritaserum until after graduation, I think I'd feel safer with you, sir. I trust you to protect me, and in your absence, I'd be close to Slytherin. Also, my DADA Mastery dissertation requires potions, so the closer I am to the practice labs, the better," He explained.

The Potions Master sighed. "I miss the days when you had open distrust of me and weren't smart enough to cast a shoe tying spell, let alone give good reasoning behind a decision," He muttered. The man turned to the other two Gryffindors. "I trust you can find your way to the Headmaster with your decisions?"

Hermione and Neville nodded and the latter exited quickly. Hermione, however, hugged the remaining student close. "Good luck, Harry. If anyone can find a heart buried in those robes, it's you." She pulled away with a secret smile.

"How did you-?" Harry started, unable to finish as she winked and ran out of the room.

"Come along, Potter. My interactions with the Headmaster have numbered high enough for one day. I would like to retire before he finds yet another reason to seek my company," Snape said, moving into the corridor. Harry snickered and followed the man.

SSHP

"Did you finish that essay yet?" Draco asked, sitting next to Harry at the Slytherin table.

Harry swallowed the eggs he'd just taken a bite of. "Yeah, I did that last Wednesday when I commandeered your dorm, remember? You do realize it's due in a week, right?"

Draco sighed as he grabbed some bacon from a platter. "I know, Harry. I still have a foot left, though, at least, and I've run out of ideas. I don't see why the professor's won't just accept that some of us are capable of finishing an essay in fewer words."

"You could always take it to Snape and see if he thinks you've covered enough of the subject," Blaise suggested, sitting down and stealing a piece of Harry's toast.

"I tried. He says I need a conclusion and that he expects me to put real thought into it," Draco groaned. "Think I could look at your essay, Harry? Maybe get an idea of what he's looking for?"

"How do you know what I wrote is what he's looking for?" Harry countered, smacking away Blaise's hand as he reached for another piece of his toast.

"Because you always write exactly to the standard of what he's looking for, ever since you first started really paying attention after Snakeface kicked the bucket," Theo said, joining them.

"It's like you're in his head, Harry. Scary really," Neville added from slightly further down the table, where he was reading a new book he'd borrowed from Sprout.

"Plus you're staying in his quarters," Draco insisted. "Surely he's mentioned something about it."

"We don't talk much, actually. He grades while I do homework, or we're both reading something," Harry insisted.

"Please, Harry? I'll give it back at dinner; I just need to study it for a short while. I really want to get a good grade on this assignment. Lupin will accept whatever I come up with to finish, but you know Snape will ream me ragged if I don't perform to his standard. Please?" Draco pleaded, leaning into Harry and batting his eyelashes.

Harry sighed as Draco continued to plead. "You're going to give me a tension headache before class even starts," He murmured. He groaned when familiar hands began kneading his shoulders.

"Just let him borrow it, Harry, you know he won't relent until you do," Pansy soothed. "And you also know Draco well enough to know he wouldn't simply copy your ideas. He's just looking for a direction."

Harry sighed again and reached into his bag, tossing the large roll of parchment at the blonde's head. "If there is a single stain, blotch, or mark on that parchment, I'll wring your scrawny neck, Draco," He growled.

The boy sat there and held up his hand. "Promise, it will be returned in the exact condition which you lent it to me. I can't thank you enough, Harry, really." He began unrolling the parchment. "Merlin, Harry, did you write a book? This is at least 6 feet!"

Harry waved him off and pushed his plate over to Blaise, who'd already stolen half of the food on it. He laid his head down on his arms as Pansy continued to knead his shoulders with her skilled fingers. "One of these days, Blaise, I'm going to make you get your own food."

The group chuckled, as this was a constant promise whenever Harry ate with them. Of course, the promise had been made before when they'd meet in the kitchens for meals, but the sentiment seemed to stick wherever they went.

"Poor baby, you're very tense," Pansy simpered, continuing with the massage.

"Not sleeping too well in the Professor's quarters?" Theo teased.

Harry huffed. "I'm sleeping fine, but my shoulders are getting tense from all the experimenting I've been doing in the potions lab for my dissertation."

"So how is it, living with Professor Snape? Are his quarters decked out in Slytherin colors? Is he always going on about potions?" Millicent asked excitedly.

"I told you, we don't talk much. However, when we do, we're usually discussing philosophy, politics…anything really. His quarters are actually a very comfortable earth tone décor. I have my own private entrance, if you want to come and see my guest room. Snape decorated it himself, told me I could change it if I wanted to. I haven't, so it'd give you an idea of his tastes," Harry told them as Pansy kissed his head and shoved Draco aside so she could take the seat next to the Boy Who Lived.

"Sure, Harry, we could come down after dinner," Hermione said joining them with minutes to the bell.

"Why are you late?" Theo asked.

"Carter wrote me a letter, I was trying to reply to it before classes. I only just finished," Hermione explained, out of breath. The group gave a collective, teasing "ah" just as the bell rang.

"So we'll all study in my room tonight, after dinner?" Harry asked as they all got up to head off to their classes. Everyone agreed before going off in their separate directions.

SSHP

Harry led the group down into the dungeons, studying his essay to be sure Draco didn't ruin it in any way. He looked up when they reached the section of wall that led into his room.

"Black heart, golden soul," He said loudly. The wall quickly slid out of place to allow them entrance.

"Did Snape pick that password?" Theo asked curiously.

Harry didn't answer, only raising an eyebrow at the ludicrous question. Everyone got settled onto the over-large bed quickly, and Harry watched as they went over any classes they shared. He'd gotten top marks on all of his previous tests, so he was excluded from the session that night. He spent the hour that they were there going over the essay he'd gotten back from Draco.

When he finished going over it, he helped where he could with his friends before they all decided to pack it up for the night. He watched each of them go, making sure once they were gone to change his password. He trusted them in his own room, sure, but giving them access to Snape's rooms was another matter entirely. They were still teenagers, and he knew Theo had mentioned that he and Draco were planning to prank Snape before graduation. He was fairly certain they were joking, but he preferred safe over sorry. Once he'd finished putting his room to rights, he went through the door into Snape's sitting room to work on his dissertation using the notes he'd gathered from the last night's experiments.

"It's none of my business, Mister Potter," Snape said from his desk, where he sat grading potions essays. "But does Miss Parkinson's betrothed know she is having an affair with you?"

Harry looked up in surprise. "If he did know something like that, I think it would hardly constitute an affair," He said off-handedly, returning to his thick roll of parchment. "However, I'm sure Pansy would be heartbroken to know you thought so little of her innocence. To have her mentor think her promiscuous would dash her terribly, I think."

"So you aren't having an affair with her? The evidence against such a denial is highly enumerated, Potter," Snape insisted.

Harry sighed and looked up. "What evidence? That of her kissing my cheek, or temple, or what have you? Or do you mean the massages she gives me on occasion? If it the former, you must not have been friends with very many girls in your youth. If it the latter, then you should know I have begun developing migraines if I accumulate too much tension in my shoulders. I don't mind living with them, honestly, but she worries about what Madame Pomfrey said about there being a chance they could lead to a brain hemorrhage. I suppose I could just visit the Hospital Wing daily and tell her to stop, but I saw no harm. Blaise also gives me massages, as does Hermione, and even Theo. Would you like to assume I'm sleeping with them as well?" Harry demanded angrily. He sighed when he realized he was angry at nothing. "I'm sorry, sir," He muttered immediately. "I shouldn't be angry with you for having Pansy's best interest at heart. I'm just frustrated with everyone trying to figure out who I'm dating, and this stupid dissertation is doing nothing to better my mood."

"So you are seeing someone?" Snape asked, still not looking up from his grading.

Harry released a hollow chuckle. "No, sir, I'm not. There are no men here who interest me. A relationship wouldn't go over very well, anyway. I still have nightmares about the war; I can hardly imagine what it'd be like for whomever I share a bed with to wake to me screaming."

This time, Snape did look up. "I haven't heard anything coming from your room at night, nor have I detected silencing charms."

"You wouldn't, sir, with all due respect. Neville started casting an anti-silencing spell on our dorms last year, when he realized I was having nightmares. I found a rather useful spell in an old book of my mother's, though. It's a charm that keeps others from being aware that I'm screaming, or thrashing, or whatever the nightmare induces, so long as they're more than two or three feet away from me. So I guess I could try dating if I convinced the person I was with to never sleep in the same bed as me," Harry said bitterly.

"Have you tried to seek council for your nightmares?" Snape asked, a hint of concern in his voice. "I remember when your mother found that spell; it took me weeks to convince her she didn't need it and to talk to someone about her homesickness."

"She was homesick, and that's why she had nightmares?" Harry side-stepped.

"She was convinced something terrible would happen to her family without her there." Snape told him, a half-smile forming on his face. "I remember one night she came to me convinced her family's home had burned to the ground with all of them trapped inside, the only one to escape being the cat. Your grandmother thought my letter of grievance to the cat for their imagined deaths rather a funny joke…your grandfather did not. Now, answer the question, Mister Potter. And I should have been able to detect the spell you're using, why haven't I?"

Harry ducked his head, hiding his blush at being caught. "No, I haven't sought council, sir. I talked to Madame Pomfrey about the possibility, and she said that, because of what it concerns, it would be best to talk to someone I trust. She offered to do it herself, but she's so busy all the time, I didn't want to put that burden on her, sir. And my friends…well, to be honest, sir, they have all managed to preserve a sort of innocence after the war, and I don't want to ruin that by talking about the horrors I witnessed through Snakeface's eyes in fifth year. For the last week I haven't had nightmares, though, since I'm so busy and exhausted with my dissertation. That's probably why you haven't detected the spell, I haven't really needed it, and it only activates when I'm having a nightmare," He explained. Snape seemed to deem this a worthy explanation, as he returned to his grading. Harry turned back to his own work, glad the man didn't seem to want to push the subject further.

After several minutes, Harry looked up when the couch dipped beside him. "What exactly is causing you so much trouble with your dissertation, Mister Potter?" Snape asked calmly, looking through the notes Harry had scattered on the low coffee table.

Harry looked at the notes he had been going over, trying to recall all of the obstacles he'd been running into. "Mostly, it's the potion aspect, sir. I was having some trouble with the incantation, but Professor Flitwick helped me to solve that. Right now, I just need to find the proper measurements for the bullfrog bile, and dosage for the improved Wolfsbane. After that, I can concentrate on how best to combine the potion and the Wits-about-you spell. Albus told me to concentrate on the spell, since it has enough defense merit for the Mastery Council, but I really want to deliver the finished product; not only for my mastery, but for werewolves. They've waited so long for someone to just slightly improve upon your own improvements, just to feel less sick around the full moon, and I think if I can figure this out I might be able to convince the ministry to abolish the stupid werewolf regulations altogether, or at least recant some of them so people like Remus don't have to live as second-class citizens."

Snape took the potions notes from Harry's hands and glanced over them. "You seem to have everything in order, what's the matter with it?"

Harry pointed to a single line near the bottom. "The rash is still appearing in 2 out of 5 test rats. I'm close, but close is only good enough in horseshoes and hand grenades," He said.

Snape looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I think the last person I heard say that was my Muggle grandfather. When did you turn 50, Mister Potter? I admit, I have often mistaken your age with someone younger and more foolish, but I can't imagine it's been by that much."

Harry chuckled. "No, Mrs. Figg used to say that. I guess I must have picked it up from her." He grinned when Snape chuckled. They spent the next few hours going over Harry's notes for the potion, talking amiably when Harry paused to take note of any ideas that might further his experiments. Finally, when the clock struck midnight, Snape made them stop.

"You'll have to do the experiments on your own, but I think one of those ideas should work," Snape said, standing.

Harry stood as well, gathering his materials into a neat pile and into his arms. "I'll test them all tomorrow, after classes. Thank you, Professor, I really appreciate all of your help tonight."

The man sniffed indignantly. "If we're honest, I did nothing. I simply used your own notes to make you think more clearly about your problem. You'd have reached those conclusions with or without my help."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, maybe in a few weeks, or months considering how stubborn I can be. Goodnight, Professor, and thanks again…for not helping, I guess." He moved towards his room, but stopped when Snape called to him.

"Potter…I am privy to a lot of information concerning the war that your friends will never know. I was present during most of your visions," Snape said evenly. Harry grimaced, but didn't answer. "Should you wish to discuss it, to put the past where it belongs, my door is open. Even if you must wake me from a dead sleep, as your mother did many years ago, I am available and a willing ear. As I'm sure Madame Pomfrey informed you, as wizards our dreams can have a much more profound effect on our psyche, and should not be simply ignored, not even just until the next morning. I can promise that there is nothing you can tell me that would shock me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't be so sure," He muttered, thinking of the secret reason behind him choosing to stay here. He turned and spoke loud enough for the Professor to hear. "I appreciate the sentiment, and I'll consider your offer, sir. I wouldn't want to make you relive your own nightmares, but I also know you never offer something without thinking it over first. If I have a nightmare, I'll come to you." Snape nodded, and they both disappeared into their separate rooms with a final bid of goodnight.


	4. Chapter 4

A week and a half later, Harry awoke to being shaken roughly about the shoulders by his professor. It was a routine they'd come up with by accident. If Harry didn't wake and go to Snape before the man was awoken by an alarm spell, Snape came and forced him awake. Harry sat up with a start and felt the tears he'd been holding back in his dream begin to pour down his cheeks as he looked at the dark blur of his professor.

"Harry, what was it?" Snape demanded.

Harry shook his head, communicating that he couldn't speak. A glass of water was shoved into his hands. Once he'd drunk enough to make his scratchy throat workable, he set the glass aside and looked blearily at his professor, his tears worsening his vision. "It wasn't just a memory this time, sir." He started, his voice trembling as images of the nightmare flashed in his mind. He hugged his knees to his chest as he closed his eyes against a wave of nausea. "I guess you could call it a memory and a half. Th-there was a little red-haired girl. She was a Muggle-born witch, I think, too young to have gotten her letter yet. I watched Theo's dad rape her over and over, before Lucius and Lestrange began branding the girl's naked skin with spells and knives. She kept screaming for her mum, and her dad, and even for God to save her. I was so horrified. I wanted to stop it, to save her, but I couldn't, I was trapped, with the feel of Riddle's pleasure rolling around in my stomach."

"She was so scared," Harry gasped, the tears coming faster now. "Finally, her little body couldn't take the abuse anymore. When she died, I thought for sure I'd be able to wake up, and vomit to rid myself of the feeling of Tom's pleasure, but the dream didn't end, it just grew clearer as if I were seeing it in the present. They pulled another body into the circle. It was a Death Eater and when they removed the mask I saw that it was you. You just sat there, kneeling and defiant. Then the vision changed, and I was kneeling at your side, and I was myself. There was so much blood…I was still frozen, even in my own body. I couldn't help you, and you were choking on your own blood, so much blood," Harry whimpered. He buried his face in the blanket on his knees. "I used to have so many nightmares about the same thing. I was so scared you'd be discovered, and that in the next night's vision Riddle would force me to watch you die."

The young Wizarding savior started when long, muscular arms wrapped around him. "Don't be stupid, Harry. I was too smart for Tom, remember? Even at the very end he was calling to me to help him, to carry on in his image."

Harry returned the hug almost desperately. "It just felt so real. Like he'd come back just to claim you." The younger wizard felt the warmth of his professor's tired chuckle.

"I promise you, Mister Potter, I will still be here torturing students -and you as my colleague- even when Dumbledore has finally retired to some beach somewhere. I have no plans to die, not anymore. As for these visions that torture you every night, you need to accept that there really was nothing you could do. The Dark Lord seemed determined to have you in his head for the most grotesque of the meetings, and your barriers could never have kept him out with that much channeled determination, not while you slept," Snape pulled away from Harry and wiped away the lingering tears with his thumbs. "You lived through a harrowing ordeal, Harry, I know, but it's time to let go of the things you can't change." Snape was always like this after a nightmare; relatable, even kind and caring. Occasionally, Harry wondered if it was the act of the man being woken in the middle of the night that gave him such an open view of who the Potions Master really was under the cold, indifferent mask.

Harry smiled softly. "I know, thank you, Professor. I actually think talking about it has helped. Before the dream part snuck in, the memory was hazy, as though I was far off and my mind had to work to recall it. It was the dream that seemed sharp, and too damn real."

"As much as I like knowing someone would cry at my death, Mister Potter, I promise that isn't something you have to worry about happening for a very, very long time. You're rather stuck having me alive," Snape teased lightly, prodding Harry gently in the ribs. He stood up from the bed. "Do you need Dreamless Sleep?"

The younger wizard shook his head. Snape always asked, but Harry would always refuse, afraid of the consequences should he become addicted to suppressing the nightmares. He slid back down onto his pillows as Snape moved to the door. He waited for the light to go out as his breath hitched. He would cry again, he knew, the dream had been too damn vivid for it not to have scared him into a sleepless, teary night, but he was trying stave off his sobs until the professor had left. Finally, the light was gone, and Harry gasped as the tears began flowing in earnest, his heart clenching painfully. He'd known when he fell in love that there would be times he got hurt, but he'd never imagined this much pain, nor for it to be caused by his own imagination. He jumped when, after a moment of trying to silence his tears, a hand touched his shoulder.

"Did it really affect you this much, Harry?" Came the soft baritone of the Potions Master. Harry buried his face in his pillow, but nodded. The answer was obvious, there was no point in denying the truth when it was right in front of the man's face. "Why?"

Harry forced himself to shrug and shake his head, biting his tongue to keep from saying what he so desperately wanted to. He'd decided months ago to never tell the man, he wouldn't let Snape's imagined death be the reason he broke his oath. He let out a soft gasp when the bed dipped suddenly. He'd thought Snape had left. The young wizard rolled over to find Snape sitting back against the headboard, a hand reaching towards him. The hand touched his head and began running through his hair, something Snape had done only once before when Harry had been inconsolable after the first nightmare Snape had had to wake him from.

"You don't have to stay, sir," Harry muttered, feeling foolish for needing such comfort. Before, it had been alright, he hadn't been thinking clearly and the images he'd seen in his memory had been enough for any man to need comfort, but now it seemed like a towering weakness.

"I think I will, Mister Potter. Just until you fall asleep," Snape said gruffly, stifling a yawn. "I once had a dream like the one you've just had, and my mother sat in my bed beside me and rubbed my back until I fell asleep. When I asked her about it, she said that she'd known that, if her hand was warm and moving on my back, then I'd know she was alive and would be able to sleep. In her memory, I am offering that same comfort to you now."

Harry smiled softly in the dark as the long fingers continued to card through his hair. "You know too much, Professor. I had hardly thought about finding a way to guarantee my subconscious you were still alive, and here you are doing it for me." Harry could practically feel the smirk on his teacher's face. "Thank you, sir, for everything, not just tonight."

"Stop thanking me so much, Mister Potter, it is growing tiresome to hear," The Potions Master growled lightly. "Now go to sleep. Tomorrow you and your classmates are going to have the Soul Seeker spell placed on you, and I think you'll want your wits about you when nearly every 7th year girl is twisting her results to fit you."

Harry smirked, but settled further into his blankets, concentrating on the feel of Snape's fingers in his hair, and the sound of his breathing. Eventually, he was lulled to sleep by the comfort of both, never realizing his professor had long since fallen into his own deep sleep.

SSHP

Harry slipped into the classroom silently, exchanging a nod with his friends. McGonagall had kept him late after class, as he had been late coming in. Snape, however, already knew that, as they had woken at the same time…in the same bed. The Potions Master avoided catching Harry's eye and waited for the Seventh Year to take his seat at the back before beginning the lecture.

"After a review of the specifics of this particular spell with your defense professor, I have decided to take up your final papers in our _next_ class. I will be observing you all between now and then will add or deduct points from the essays based on how well you keep your own philosophies in mind. It is my sincere hope that this will not only prove to me you really thought about your cases, but that it will keep you from making fools of yourselves," Snape announced to the classroom. "However, to give me a general idea, I would like for each of you to give me a verbal summary of your work before I cast the spell on you. You have five minutes to look over your essays before we begin."

The majority of the class immediately pulled out their essays to glance through them for an appropriate summary, but Harry instead pulled out a spare bit of parchment and quill for doodling. He glanced up when the professor stopped at his table, but the man seemed to think better of whatever he'd planned to say, and continued on in his perusal of the room.

After a few more minutes, Snape moved back to his desk at the front of the room, gathering everyone's attention. "It was also agreed between myself and your defense professor that we conduct the spells in private, for the benefit of our students, and that it not be made mandatory. I will begin at the front of the class, and you will each come into my office when the one before you leaves. If you do not wish to participate, you may do independent study and waive your turn, but do _not_ leave until the person before you has left. I don't need a bunch of students wandering the halls all at once. Note that if you choose not to do the spell, I will expect another six inches on _why_." With that, the dour Head Snake swept into his office through the side door, followed closely by Theodore Nott.

SSHP

Harry paused, taking a few deep breaths before he got up and moved towards his Professor's office. As the last student, he was sure Snape wouldn't want him to tarry, but he couldn't help his nervousness. Luckily, he knew Snape didn't have any idea of his feelings, but a part of him wondered just how precise this spell was and hoped that, if young witches used it as entertainment, it wasn't very specific at all. He knocked softly on the wooden door before going in.

"I see your fellow students have not yet mauled you as a result of what they've learned from the spell," Snape said immediately, his lips twitching in an effort to stop a smile. He kept his eyes down, studying a piece of parchment on his desk.

Harry chuckled weakly and rubbed the back of his head. "No, I'm sure the girls who'll do that are in Remus' class. The smart ones, your students, are all paired up or are my friends." He paused uncertainly. "Sir, what exactly does this spell do? I couldn't find much research on it in the library, and most of what I did find wasn't terribly specific." He moved to the lone wooden chair in front of the desk.

"It's really rather simple, Mister Potter," The Potions Master said smoothly. He continued to peruse the document in front of him, still avoiding eye contact. "Once the spell is cast, a translucent scroll should appear with the description of your best-suited personality type. Your mind will almost always draw conclusions about someone you know whom the description fits best, but I recommend that unless you've had previously standing feelings towards the person you do not allow yourself to be influenced by this unconscious connection. It is not uncommon for one to be drawn towards _friends_ with a complimentary personality, as well as lovers."

"Can you see the result?" Harry asked curiously.

Finally, Snape looked him in the eye. "That is a rather insipid question, Mister Potter. Obviously, I am able to see the details of the scroll, otherwise I would not be able to deduct points based on how well each student sticks to his or her philosophy on what love is. If you have no other questions, we'll begin with you giving me a conclusive summary on your essay, as well as the title."

The younger wizard blushed slightly. "Yeah, not the best question in the world. I just thought I should ask, in case you were relying on us to say it aloud, which I imagine would be embarrassing for the students who already have someone in mind."

"As well as a highly unreliable means of gaining the knowledge I require," The former spy added. "As to any embarrassment, I am bound as your professor not to share any knowledge I gain from the spell, nor to use it against you. Now, your essay, Harry?"

Harry's blush deepened. "Right, of course. Um, well, my title is rather unoriginal: An Anthology on Love and Its Effects on the Human Body. And it's sort of broken up into the three main parts you asked us to cover, although they each lead into one another, and are all connected by the common idea that love, while real in its evidential state, is little more than a fairy tale when examined closely. You love friends, and you love family, and on occasion you may even fall in love. I couldn't find much on the actual chemistry and hormones, since that's more in the way of Muggle information, so instead I compared it to our everyday emotions. For instance, most people claim that when they love someone, they would die for them. Well, that's not love, its loyalty. People claim that when they fall in love, they share a deep connection with that person. Well, in that case they aren't feeling anything more than our natural connection to the world around us, only on a deeper level. The rest of the essay goes on in the same vein, ending with my thoughts that a love potion or spell induces no more than a sense of euphoria surrounding the person who cast the spell or used the potion. I believe that _that_ is why they are so hard to negate without an antidote, because once a person has found something that makes them happy, their bodies are unwilling to part with the numerous chemicals that create that feeling. This idea is supported by the fact that, if kept under too long, or given too powerful a dosage, the victim will suffer damage to their mind due to an overload of chemicals causing their synapses to misfire."

Snape hummed thoughtfully. "I see, and in your essay do you share your thoughts on, as you put it, 'evidential' love?"

"I do, sir. I believe that love, evidentially, is a source for great, and sometimes terrible, things," Harry said mildly. "When you love someone, be it friends, family, or someone with whom you're in a relationship, you become capable of extraordinary things because this deeply seeded connection gives you the strength to perform these great acts. Alternatively, 'love' is your minds way of telling you that you've given someone your absolute faith and trust. You _know_, upon recognizing this feeling, that whomever it's aimed at can hurt you terribly; the betrayal of a friendship, or a rejection by your own family or love interest. We _know_ that they, better than anyone, can make us feel as though our hearts have been ripped from our chests, and yet we insist on giving them this power because we trust that they won't ever use it."

"And how would unrequited love fit into this succinct explanation of yours, Potter? How is it a source for great things?" Snape asked, seemingly interested in Harry's ideas.

The younger wizard shrugged one shoulder as he considered the question. "It never occurred to me, Professor." His mind was screaming 'liar' so loud he would almost swear that Snape could hear it. "I suppose, if I had thought to include it, I'd have to say that unrequited love is a facet of the human survival instinct. A person in unrequited love grows to respect and trust someone so much, even knowing that that same level of admiration will never be returned, opening them up to terrible pain should the recipient ever find out; because of this, we become more cautious in our judgment of people, we don't trust as easily as we did with the one who didn't return our trust."

Snape sat up behind his desk when he realized Harry had done. "I appreciate you giving such insight to your research, and look forward to reading your essay, Potter. However, I must ask: if you think so little of love, why volunteer for the spell? Did you simply wish to avoid writing the extra foot?"

Harry shook his head, frowning. "Not in the least, sir. I don't think little of love at all, actually; I believe, and am living proof, that it is perhaps the most powerful force on Earth. The thing I'm critical of is how it's defined. It's used so unsparingly, sir, that the word has begun to mean little more than 'affection for' or 'fondness of'. It's become an abbreviation for 'infatuation' when its evidential reality is so much greater than something as childish as that."

Again, Snape hummed thoughtfully, considering Harry's words. "In that case, Harry, I dare not ask what you hope to gain from this exercise, as in light of _your_ definition you hold no real stock in what this test is truly for."

The Wizarding savior smirked, not daring to comment that he wanted to see if his "ideal" match fit the description of the man across the desk. "Call it an experiment in being wrong, sir."

The Potions Master regarded him for a moment before he seemed to accept this as a viable answer to the question he hadn't asked. He raised his wand. "Ready?"

Harry nodded, and shuddered after a moment as the spell washed over him. Almost immediately, a luminous scroll appeared before him, and Snape moved from behind his desk. He came to stand beside the younger wizard as the information began to form on the page.

_Taller, either in stature or in mind_

_Dark_

_Brooding_

_Sneaky_

_Uncommonly beautiful_

_Loyal_

_Slow to trust_

_Sarcastic or jeering _

_A snake with a lion's heart_

Snape moved back to his desk and jotted down the results on the scroll he'd been looking at earlier, not bothering to move back around the desk. Harry reread the results, somewhat surprised at just how accurately they portrayed Snape. He gave a surprised, breathy laugh.

"What's funny, Potter? Thought you'd be better suited to some other personality type?" Snape inquired, shooting Harry an amused look.

The Wizarding savior shrugged. "Nah, not really, sir, I was prepared for something similar, since this is very close to my own personality, and yet still different. It just struck me as odd that my ideal match is a character in any two-sickle romance novel: tall, dark, and mysterious." He frowned, reading the transparent scroll again. "If I may, what's this last line? Is it specific to Hogwarts, or simply using the commonly associated characteristics of the animals?"

Snape turned back after he'd finished transcribing the scroll, leaning against the front of his desk. "It is specific to Hogwarts, as you surmised. The spell uses words from your own mind that you've used in the past, even unconsciously, to describe people around you. It's designed that way so that you can easily understand what it says. It wouldn't be very useful for entertainment purposes if a five year old girl were to use it and see words such as 'magnanimous' or 'charismatic'. On occasion, the spell has been known to conform to a specific person, should the recipient feel more strongly towards someone than they do anyone else."

Harry suddenly understood why Snape and Remus had chosen this spell out of the plethora of others. "Oh, so that's how it relates to our essays, then? Our emotions affect the spells outcome. If we hated someone so much that it was stronger than our love for anyone, the spell would describe the person we hate, rather than an ideal match. And in our essays, we were specifically told to explain why an 'ideal match' did not necessarily indicate a good friend or life partner, because you and Remus wanted to see if we stuck to our arguments."

"Precisely, Harry," The Potions Master said with a proud smirk. "Incidentally, you failed to mention the direction you took for that portion of the essay. What is your argument?"

"I haven't one, sir, neither for or against," Harry dead-panned. Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly saying he expected an explanation, and the Seventh Year sighed, mussing the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm not sure how to put it, since I don't remember the exact wording from my essay. I suppose an example would work best to sum it up, though. Um, Draco and I have been known to clash horribly in the past, right?" The older wizard gave a short nod of agreement. "Well, that hasn't changed, has it? Yes, we are more amiable, and yes an observer might think us comrades now, rather than antagonists, but that hasn't changed the fact that we still cross blades now and again. Our arguments are still as heated as they once were; we are still able to get under one-another's skin more easily than anyone else, except perhaps family. Draco and I are very similar in a lot of ways, which means we have plenty in common to encourage our friendship, but it's that very same reason that has us butting heads on occasion. We both like the same things, but sometimes we each like different _aspects _of the same thing, which causes an argument. And, _because_ of our similarities, we're able to argue so well against the other's opinion that the debate can't help but grow heated. Another argument for the idea that compatibility is both good and bad for companionship would be a couple of siblings, or, even better, a pair of twins. I'm sure it sounds like a cop-out, but I really think that compatibility is proof that too much of a good thing can be bad. Alternatively, opposites may attract, but it's harder for them to stay together without being at least half-way similar."

The Potions Master folded his arms over his chest. "While a fair point on all counts, Mister Potter, I don't see how you can say that you're of the opinion that your argument is neither for, nor against, true compatibility. Yes, you make a good argument for too many similarities being difficult on a relationship, but by offering an alternative that highlights the necessity _for_ similarities, you're clearly of the opinion that compatibility is necessary for companionship, if only by a small margin."

Harry considered this. "I hadn't really thought of it that way, but I guess you're right sir. So, I suppose that my argument is _for_ compatibility representing companionship, because without it we can't hope for more than a few stolen moments."

"Your essay seems rather insightful thus far, Mister Potter," The Potions Master purred smoothly.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the compliment. "Thank you, sir." He stood. "I have to admit, despite its level of difficulty, I had quite a bit of fun writing the paper. It's always interesting when something forces you to examine a difficult question more closely. You sometimes find that your thoughts actually differ, once studied closely, from your first-blush opinion of a subject."

Snape smirked and gave a light, jeering scoff. "I would disagree, however my changing opinion of yourself would make me a liar. You have grown since the war ended, Mister Potter, changed; and I don't just mean physically."

The Gryffindor nodded in acknowledgement. "I appreciate it, sir. Am I free to go?" He gestured towards the door, still standing next to the chair.

The Potions Master hesitated, suddenly avoiding looking Harry in the eye. "Um, not quite yet…I am afraid we must address the rather unseemly state of affairs we both woke to this morning. Firstly, I wish to apologize."

Harry blushed, but didn't sit back down as he recalled his waking moments. He and Snape had still been in his bed, and, as it was rather small for two people, had sometime in the night begun spooning. "It's really not necessary, sir," The savior demurred quietly. "Nothing happened, so it's not important."

"It _is_ important, Harry," Snape insisted, looking at him imploringly. "It was highly inappropriate for me to be in your room the entire night, let alone in your bed. Added to that the manner in which we woke…well, I will simply say that I hope you will excuse my behavior, and then forget about it entirely."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, suddenly confused. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Snape leaned forward, his hand gripping Harry's forearm pleadingly. "I could lose my job, Harry. Please, it's important that no one ever find out I spent the night in your bed, even if it was innocently done. I am willing to do _whatever_ you ask of me in return, if you promise that you won't tell a soul what occurred last night, or this morning."

Harry jerked his arm free of the man's grasp, suddenly angry as he realized what the man was driving at. "You think I'd blackmail you? That I'd-" He took a few steps back. "I can't believe you think I'd tell anyone what happened. I _know_ what that would do to you, and you think you'd have to bribe me for my silence? How could you think that of me?"

The former Death Eater reached out for him again. "Harry-"

The younger wizard backed away further, out of the man's reach and towards the door. "No, I get it. I'm just a backstabbing Gryffindor, right, so why should you trust me?" He drew in a deep breath, trying to control his anger.

"Harry," Snape said, stepping towards him. "I didn't mean… I just meant that…" He trailed off.

The Gryffindor only shook his head. "You can't even say it, can you? Well sod you, Professor. I can't believe that after all this time you still think I'm James." He turned and moved quickly for the door. "I won't tell anyone, and if you really want to repay me, you can stay as far away from me as possible." The sound of the door to the corridor slamming shut wasn't enough to muffle Snape's shout for Harry to come back, his voice strained and uncommonly emotional. The Wizarding savior pretended not to hear and ran up to the Headmaster's office.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry was concentrating so much on his spell that he didn't hear his door open, nor the footsteps as someone approached.

"The Headmaster told me that you went to see him after our discussion," Snape said calmly.

Harry started, accidentally breaking the spell. Only Snape's quick wand work kept the majority of the Gryffindor's things from crashing to the cobblestone floor. The young man began the spell again and the items resumed packing themselves away into his trunk. "I didn't say anything if that's what you're worried about."

"I know you didn't, or I imagine my discussion with the Headmaster would have gone much differently." Snape murmured, attempting humor. He cleared his throat lightly. "He told me you had requested different quarters for the last week, while you take your NEWTs, and came seeking an explanation when you refused to give him one. I told him I had no idea why you would request such a thing, as you are more than welcome here," The last was said with the subtle lilt of apology.

Finally, the last of Harry's things were stowed away in his trunk, which closed and latched itself. He turned to face his professor. "Honestly, sir, you could have fooled me." He said, struggling to keep the hurt and anger from his tone. With a snap of his fingers, a House Elf appeared with a pop, then disappeared as quickly with his trunk. "If you'll excuse me, Professor, I'd like to get settled in Remus' rooms before dinner." Harry pushed past the taller man without waiting for a response, and left quickly for his honorary godfather's quarters on the third floor.

When he arrived, he was greeted by both of his godfather's. Sirius pounded him on the back playfully. "No worries, Prongslet, we'll get back at that old Dungeon Bat for what he said, eh?"

Harry attempted to smile, but only managed a grimace. He'd felt compelled to tell Remus something of why he was changing rooms the night before NEWTs testing began, and had made up some story about Snape saying something mean and cruel about his lineage. It wasn't a far-fetched tale, since the Potions Master had done this many times in the past, but it had never occurred to him that it might instigate a response from Sirius. He shrugged off the animagus' hand.

"I'd rather we just left it alone, Sirius. There's no point in stooping to his level, it won't make me feel better, and it won't change his opinion of me," He told his godfather dejectedly. Something in his tone caused Remus to look up from where he'd been grading on the couch.

"Did something else happen while you were getting your things, Harry?" The werewolf inquired sympathetically.

"It's nothing; I'd rather not talk about it. I'm going to go get settled in my room and try to study before dinner. I'll talk to you guys later." The youngest of the three Gryffindors shoved his hands in his pocket and moved towards the room he'd been given earlier. A sudden thought made him round on his godfather. "And I mean it, Sirius, don't you do anything to Snape, alright? I can fight my own battles, and I still have to see him every day until Summer, and then when I start teaching, so I don't want you to do anything to him that might make it harder for us to work together, understood?"

The dog animagus raised his hand. "Promise, Harry, I will not harm a hair on Snivelus' head."

Harry frowned. "And quit calling him that, it's not his name." He continued to his room and closed the door. He knew asking Sirius not to retaliate against Snape was just going to raise his godfather's suspicions about what had really happened, but he didn't care. It was better that Sirius be clueless and suspect something, rather than clueless and retaliatory. Yeah, he was mad at Snape, but he didn't want anything to happen to him, especially nothing that his godfather's twisted mind could think up. Finally, having had enough, the Gryffindor leaned against the door and sank to the cobblestones, letting himself mourn over the ache in his chest at finally being rejected by his love interest.

The next few days were spent in a sort of quiet delirium for Harry. Snape and Remus using a well-known spell had led to other years playfully using it amongst themselves, leaving Harry the targeted love interest not only by students in his year, but the younger years as well. He was often forced to make a quick escape as girls, and even some blokes, tried to earn his favor with gifts, and songs, and poetry, or by simply following him everywhere he went. More than once, his professor's had been forced to shoo away the more persistent of the groups when they tried to enter the testing hall with him. On the third day, Harry had had enough and finally snapped at lunch.

"Leave me the bloody hell alone!" The Boy Who Lived shouted at the girls standing around him. He stood violently from the bench, causing them to back away a step in fear. "I'm not your bloody play thing, and I'm not some trophy for you to put on your mantle! I'm a human being, and I don't like being stalked!" He turned to see half of the Hall staring at him over their lunches. He huffed in agitation, but sat back down, ignoring it as the girls who'd been hovering around him left in tears. The hall continued to stare at him.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and he turned, ready to tell whoever it was that they could shove off as well. He froze when he saw it was Snape. "Detention, Potter, tonight, for inexcusable language." Without another word, the man strode up to the Head Table.

Harry turned back to his lunch and shoved it away, suddenly having lost his appetite. Snape had tried a number of times to catch Harry's eye, or speak to him when there was no one else in the corridor. Up until now, Harry had been rather successful at avoiding hearing whatever the man had to say. He didn't want to hear the man's fake apologies and placations, but now found himself unable to avoid it simply because he'd been too stupid to keep his mouth shut.

After dinner, Harry found himself knocking on the Potion Master's classroom door. When the door finally opened, he felt almost ready to bolt, consequences be damned. The older wizard stepped aside, admitting him entry into the classroom. He stepped in quietly, avoiding looking at his professor.

"What will I-"

"Sit down, Potter, and shut up," Snape growled, slamming the door to his classroom.

Harry moved further into the room and sat heavily at one of the desks near the front, glaring at the stains in the wood. He waited silently as the Potions Master came to stand in front of the desk. The air grew stale between them as Harry waited for the man to say something, anything.

"You're behaving like a child, Potter."

This caused Harry to jerk his head up and stare at the man. He glared, and then looked away. "I don't know what you mean, Professor. I've been busy studying for my NEWTs."

The Potions Master slammed his hands onto the desk. "This isn't a game, Potter. I am your professor, and as such you will look me in the eye and explain to me why you have been acting this way! Why did you move to the wolf's quarters, Harry? Why have you been avoiding me?" The demand for an explanation caused Harry to look up again.

"I didn't want to inconvenience you, _Professor_." He sneered. "After all, you couldn't trust me with one thing, why should I expect you to trust me with access to your quarters? I might _tell_ someone that the Potions Master wasn't always a Greasy Git!"

The man growled and pushed away from the desk to begin pacing in front of it. "Damn it, Potter, that isn't what happened!"

"Isn't it?!" Harry demanded, standing. "Because as I recall you tried to bribe me for my silence!"

The Potions Master rounded on him. "Be quiet, Potter!" He hissed. He grabbed Harry's wrist and dragged him through the door that led to his office, casting several wards. Despite the numerous privacy spells, he was still whispering when he turned back. "Harry, I never meant to imply that I didn't trust you!" He insisted.

Harry scoffed. "Well, you bloody well failed to imply otherwise." He hissed back angrily.

Snape growled and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harry, this is an impossible argument. I was tired and panicking over the fact that I might lose my _job_. I was willing to do whatever it took to make sure you knew how vital it was that you keep quiet. And, if I'm honest, I wanted to see if you would take advantage of the situation, or if you truly felt our friendship was more important than a better grade. I never intended to hurt you, Harry. How can I make you see that you do have my trust, implicitly and without hesitation?"

Harry paused, stuck on the fact that Snape had just called them friends. He'd felt that they were friends, or near enough, ever since they'd begun training in Fifth Year, when they'd stopped arguing in favor of almost playful banter. He'd always stopped just short of saying it aloud, though, unsure if the man felt the same. Finally, Snape seemed to realize he wasn't going to respond.

"This isn't a test, Harry, I'm _telling_ you to take advantage of the situation. It's too late to adjust your grades, but you can ask anything else of me. House points, or something embarrassing perhaps…something that I can do to prove that you have my undying trust," The former spy pleaded.

The Gryffindor considered what the man was saying. If it were anyone else, he'd take the offer as proof enough, because it meant they were willing to do anything for his friendship. But Snape was a Slytherin, and as such was willing to make the offer knowing Harry would think exactly that; taking the small chance that he might actually think of something, because, if he did, it likely wouldn't be too compromising. He decided to ask for the one thing he'd probably get no other way.

"I want you to kiss me," He said at last.

Snape looked taken aback. "How would that-"

"Because it's the same situation," Harry insisted. "You said that sharing my bed by accident was inappropriate, and made it seem as if you couldn't trust me with the knowledge of that incident. Kissing me would be even more inappropriate, and if you're telling the truth about trusting me, then you'd trust me to keep that a secret as well. If I asked you to tell me an embarrassing story or give me House Points, or even if changing my grades had been an option, then you wouldn't have to have the same level of trust. It's not the same kind of risk, and I couldn't tell about the second without breaking my promise about the first. A kiss, however, would be a new incident of its own. You don't even have to like it, it's just the only thing I can think of to truly prove that you trust me."

Snape hesitated. "Harry, sleeping in your bed only _risked_ my job, this would cause me to lose my position entirely if anyone found out, no questions asked."

Harry felt a sharp pain in his chest at this second show of distrust, but hid it well as he took a deep breath. "Then, you've made your choice. Goodbye, Professor." He turned to leave.

A hand grabbed his wrist again and he turned to look with false calm into the Potions Master's black eyes. The taller wizard stepped forward. "But, if it will prove that I trust you, then I will do what you ask." Harry felt another sharp pang, but the pain was buried under the anticipation coursing through his body as the man stepped closer.

One hand snaked its way over his neck, while the other tugged at his wrist to pull him close. When there was only an inch or so between them, the hand on Harry's neck guided him upwards so their lips could meet. Harry saw a flash of sparks behind his closed eyelids as their lips touched, a gentle glide of flesh on flesh. He melted into the kiss, allowing the older wizard to lead the agonizingly slow movements. His breath hitched as he felt the man's tongue slide softly past his lips, the tip caressing the roof of his mouth and then teasingly dancing along his own tongue. He reached a hand carefully up to slide into the man's dangling black hair, his tongue now dancing with the other wizard's. The tempo of the kiss sped up briefly as they each began to lose themselves in the feel and excitement, before Snape pulled away without warning.

Before Harry could even open his eyes, the Potions Master had moved away several steps and turned his back to him. "There, I have done as you asked."

"Yeah," Harry murmured, feeling properly rejected now. "Thank you, Professor, for trusting me."

Snape turned, his face clear of any emotion. "It is nothing, Harry, for me to give you my trust. You have earned it time and again. I'm only grateful that you've given me this opportunity to-to prove my trust. Now, I'm sure you have plenty of studying left to do for whichever NEWTs you have yet to take, so I will bid you goodnight. Should anyone ask, I suppose we could say I made you write lines."

Harry snorted, unable to help himself. "Or I could say I gave you an oral report." He grinned when Snape smirked, glad to know the man didn't hate him. "Good night, Professor, and thanks again…for trusting me." He turned and left, barely hearing the mumbled reply. He managed to make it almost out of the dungeons when the shock of what just happened left him, to be replaced by a deep, hard-hitting sorrow.

The Seventh Year hid in an alcove as his breath became short and ragged, willing himself not to cry. He'd known when he asked that the man, if he agreed, would only do it out of desperation to regain Harry's favor, but he still found himself on the verge of tears. Some part of him had hoped that the kiss would perhaps instigate some return of his feelings. Now that that hope was gone, in its place was a deep, burning ache that made his body feel almost numb. When he felt as if the tears might be staved off for a time, he hurried back to the relative privacy of his room in Remus' quarters.

SSHP

The last days of the semester were spent with Harry putting all of his effort into his studying to avoid thinking of the kiss, and Snape's obviously disgusted response. As a result, he did rather well in his remaining NEWTs, including History of Magic.

When the Leaving Feast finally ended, Harry found himself waving off the students from the front steps, surrounded by all of his professors and Neville. Dumbledore had decided that they should both start work immediately on their classes, trusting that they'd each done well in their NEWTs and seeing no point in holding off until they got their results.

When the last student was out of sight, the professor's dispersed to their random final tasks before their own vacations began. Harry found himself standing alone on the front steps, and sat as he watched the speck on the horizon of the last carriage until it disappeared entirely. He gave a deep sigh.

"Regretting your new post already, Potter?" A soft, rumbling voice inquired.

Harry looked up at his friend, smirking. "Nah, just missing the days when torturing you was more fun. Now that I'm becoming a professor, I'll have to be more secretive about it, since I have to set the example for my students."

Snape chuckled lightly and sat beside him on the stone steps. "I'm not sure I like the sound of you being the example for anyone," He murmured, staring out over the horizon. Harry smiled. After a moment, the man spoke again. "On the subject of secrets, you do realize-"

"That I still can't tell anyone," Harry interrupted, giving an exasperated sigh. "I know, Snape. Don't worry, your secrets are safe with me."

Snape leaned forward so as to catch the younger wizard's eye. "I know that, Harry. Actually, if you'd listen for once, I was going to say that if you ever want to tell anyone, then we had best to do it again, so that there are versions that aren't secret." He leaned back as Harry jerked his head around to look at him in stunned surprise.

"What are you-"

Snape smirked, leaning his elbows back on the step above him. "I saw the spell, Harry. There aren't a lot of people in the world with a description so similar to my own, even if I don't agree with all of what it said. It didn't take a genius to realize who the spell was describing, and took even less to know that you didn't _hate_ me enough to influence the spell. After that, it wasn't hard to figure out what other emotion would influence the spell." He looked deeply into Harry's eyes as the younger wizard stared at him, still stunned. "Your request only confirmed my previous conclusion."

Harry frowned, seeing no disgust from the man. "But then, why did you pull away like that when we…" he trailed off, afraid to say it without protection spells cast. Instead, he gestured between them with his hand.

Snape grabbed the hand, scratching his nail lightly over the calloused flesh and making Harry shiver. "Because I was concerned that if we'd gone on any longer, I would not have been able to stop at _just_ a kiss." He tugged lightly on Harry's hand, and the Gryffindor let himself be drawn into a heated, toe-curling kiss that took his breath away.

When the kiss ended, Harry breathed a soft sigh. "Then it _was_ a test," He murmured.

Snape nodded. "And one you passed rather stunningly." He replied softly, pulling the younger wizard back into his warm embrace.


End file.
